


Memories

by TopHatCat



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, M/M, Memory Loss, Thorns of Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:19:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopHatCat/pseuds/TopHatCat
Summary: Eric has gone missing and Alan is admitted to the hospital after a severe attack caused by the Thorns of Death, only to find that his husband was taken in the very same day.  The only trouble is, Eric can't seem to remember anything or anyone, including Alan...(Prequel to the 'Imprisoned' AU)DISCONTINUED.





	1. Chapter 1

“Here, kitties!” Alan called, shaking food into the two bowls.  Blossom and Potato came trotting over and settled down immediately to eat their dinner.  Alan gave them each a pat and put the food away before going to clean up after dinner.

He put away the small pot of rice and beans, washed the single plate and spoon and looked around the tidy kitchen.  Going into the living room he automatically searched for something to put away but the floor and surfaces were immaculate, as they had been for the past two and a half weeks.

Sinking onto the couch with a sigh he couldn’t hold back, Alan picked up the book lying on the table and opened it.  He had hardly been sitting for five minutes when he realized he had been reading the same page over and over.  Tossing the novel aside, he rubbed his eyes under his glasses and stood up, restlessly wandering into the hall.  He pushed open the bedroom door and turned on the light, eyes wandering over the made up bed and neat surfaces.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Alan’s gaze went to the framed photograph sitting by his side of the bed.  Picking it up, he stared longingly at the picture beneath the glass.

In it he was standing with Blossom in his arms, Potato at his feet.  Behind him, Eric stood, one arm draped around Alan’s shoulder, his other hand waving at the camera.   Both of them were laughing.

Alan gently touched the image of Eric and a tear rolled down his cheek, landing on the glass.

Two and a half weeks.  That’s how long it had been since he last saw Eric in person, standing by the gate as he watched his husband drive away down the street, waving out the car window.  Two and a half weeks since that mysterious mission Eric had been called on.  Not even Will knew where Eric had gone, but Alan knew too much time had passed.

“I’ll be back in a few days, love,” Eric had said, tossing his bag into the backseat of the orange sports car.  “You won’t even know I’m gone.”

“I will,” Alan had smiled, leaning up to kiss his tall partner.  “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Eric had replied, cupping Alan’s face in his hands and returning the tender kiss.  “I’ll see you soon.  Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I love you,” the reaper had answered, and then Eric had gone and not returned.

Now Alan gripped the photographs frame and let tears fall freely.  For most of the time, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about all the terrible things that could have happened to Eric, but now he couldn’t stop himself.

As his shoulders shook, he felt the familiar warning pains in his chest.  He knew he should calm down, but he didn’t care.  The pangs got worse as he coughed, throat thick with tears.  As he gasped for breath, the first explosion of pain blossomed in his heart and he bent over, gripping his chest.  The photograph slipped from his fingers and he coughed, sending more jagged bursts of agony through his body.  Collapsing to his knees on the floor, Alan gripped the bed covers, sobbing.  The pain only worsened, but he couldn’t stop crying, and the hurt flickered black in his vision before engulfing him completely.

 

When he woke briefly, he was in a white room and Eric was still gone.

 

Grell was humming her way down the hall to her office when the door at the far end suddenly flew open and the person inside bolted out.

That stopped Grell in her tracks, because the door at the end never flew open, and the person inside _never_ bolted anywhere.

“Will!” she cried as the management reaper ran past her, yanking on his coat as he did.  “Will, what is it?”

He didn’t answer her, much to her chagrin, and the red reaper took off after him, catching up with her lover as he waited impatiently for the lift.

“Will,” she gasped, “What is it?”

Will looked at her, his green eyes wide and unusually emotional.  “They found him,” he said simply, and Grell’s hand flew to her mouth.

 

The second time Alan woke, the pain had vanished from his chest.  He turned his head, seeing the all too familiar beeping monitor and IV connected to his arm.  He had been brought to a hospital room too many times in the past year.  He wondered who had found him this time.  Will most likely; the reaper checked in on him at least once a day.

Sitting up, he pulled unconsciously at the neck of the plain hospital shirt and looked around the empty room.

_‘I’m sorry, Eric.  I didn’t take care of myself all that well.’_

Fresh tears would have gathered in his eyes had sudden voices not sounded outside the door.  Sitting up, he saw a black haired person go by, followed flash of familiar red hair.

 _‘Will and Grell?’_ Alan wondered.  _‘Will doesn’t run….’_

Worry filled the reaper’s chest and he pushed the blankets back, swinging his legs off the mattress and taking the robe at the end of the bed.  Will and Grell obviously weren’t here for him, which meant someone else Will knew was in the hospital, and by the actions of the management reaper, it was beyond important.

Grabbing the IV pole, rolled it to the door and peered out into the hall.  Will and Grell had vanished, but voice came from a room farther down and Alan hurried as fast as he could to them.  Reaching the doorway, he looked in, and his heart nearly stopped beating.


	2. Chapter 2

Will stared down at the reaper lying in the bed, bruised, bloody and hooked up to more machines than Will had seen before, but undoubtedly Eric Slingby.

“What the hell happened to him?” Grell asked, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

Will looked to the reaper that stood beside them. “The answer, Doctor?”

Doctor Shawn shook his head. “I don’t know, Mr. Spears.  There isn’t much that can hurt a reaper this badly.”

“Will he live?” Willa sked, and to his immense relief, Shawn nodded.

“Yes…”

Will heard his tone and frowned. “What is it?  Tell me.”

Shawn shook his head. “He’s suffered a lot of brain damage, Mr. Spears… It is very possible he will not regain full mental capabilities.”

“How severe?” Will asked, his tone sharp enough to cut paper.

“Very,” came the answer, and Grell let out a breath of angry fear.

“Screw you,” she said, “he’ll be fine.”

Will rubbed his eyes, trying to calm his mind.  “Who was he found by and where?”

“I don’t know the location,” Shawn said, “but he was found by a group of reapers travelling to a retrieval spot.”

“Where are they?”

“I have their information in my office,” the doctor replied, and the three turned toward the door, immediately freezing when they saw the figure standing there.

“I would like to see him,” Alan whispered.

“He’s in critical condition,” Shawn said gently.

“Please,” Alan said, and Will nodded.

“Go on.”

Alan moved past the three and Will shut the door quietly between them.  In the room, Alan went to the bed and sank down on the chair beside it.  For the first time in two and a half weeks, he looked into his husband’s face.

“Oh, Eric,” he breathed, gently stroking the reaper’s skin, careful to avoid the cuts and bruises.  “What happened to you?”

Eric’s eyes remanded closed, his breathed shallow and Alan thought how wrong he looked, so pale and weak in this hospital bed.  Tucking the blankets more snugly around his husband, Alan drew his legs up onto his seat and rested his head on the mattress by Eric’s shoulder.  Gently placing his hand on Eric’s chest, he could feel the steady heartbeat, the familiar thump-thump-thump he was used to.

“You’re okay,” Alan whispered, and the tears started, falling down to wet the cloth under his cheek.  “You’re home now.  I’m here.  Everything will be fine…”

 

Everything was black.  It was quiet too, a still quiet that was too uncomfortable to leave silent.  He wasn’t sure what was happening and so he looked.

Everything became white then, too bright at first to see anything, and his head protested the light by pounding furiously.  However, the pain soon lessened to a throb and the white took the form of a room with tan walls and large windows that looked out at a city.  He lifted a hand to rub his eyes and found it laden with wires, taped to various patches of skin.  Turning his head he saw the other arm was in the same condition.  Frowning, he tried to sit up, but his body wouldn’t allow it.

“Hello?” he called out, “Is anyone around?”

At first there was no answer, and he tried again.  This time the door opened a second after and a man who wore the garb of a doctor walked in.

“You’re awake!” the doctor said, smiling. “I’m Doctor Shawn.  How do you feel?”

“Uh, okay, I guess,” he answered. “Am I in a hospital?”

“Correct guess!” the doctor looked down at a clipboard in his hand.  “You had an accident and were brought here. Luckily, you survived all your cuts and scrapes.”

“W-what happened?”

“You don’t know?”  Here Shawn frowned.  “Unfortunately, we do not either.  You were found injured but that is all.”

“I…”  He glanced down at his arms again, then reached up to touch his face.  “Am I supposed to be wearing glasses?”

“Oh, of course!” Shawn moved to the bedside and picked up the spectacles, handing them to him.  He put them on, noticing the slight purpleish tint of the lenses. 

“Mr. Spears had them cleaned up,” Shawn said, making a note on his clipboard.

“Mr. Spears?” He adjusted the glasses on his face and looked up into the doctor’s face.  “Who’s Mr. Spears?” 

 

“H-he doesn’t remember anything?”

Shawn shook his head, his expression one of sorrow.  “I thought this may happen, but I had hoped…”

“He doesn’t remember me at all…?”  Alan looked down at his hands, folded in his lap, but couldn’t really see them.  All he saw was a blur of color as tears pooled in his eyes.

“There’s nothing you can do?” Will asked, his voice sharp. “Nothing?”

Shawn sighed, running a hand through his hair.  “We could try to stimulate his brain, talk to him, show him pictures, but…”

“But what?” Will pressed.

“I am afraid that any attempt to get him to remember would put him back into a coma.”  Shawn glanced at Alan.  “One he might not wake up from.”

 “So we have to act like we don’t know him,” Alan whispered.  “Like all those years… never happened?”

“I think it may be best,” Shawn said in a gentle tone, “If you did not see him at all.”

“Even seeing Alan will send him into a coma?” Will said, his voice almost trembling, but not quite.

“No,” Shawn said. “But digging into his mind may.”

“Then I won’t,” Alan said, “I won’t try and get him to remember.  I just want to see him.”

“It is more your own health I am afraid for, Mr. Humphries,” Shawn said.  “You are very weak yourself, and-.”

“I don’t care!”  Alan stood, fists clenched, teeth gritted. “I don’t care about me!  Damn my health for all I care, Eric’s the only one who matters!”  He drew in a shuddering breath and gripped his chest over his heart, staggering until Will steadied him.  “I’m fine,” he said, moving away and composing himself.  Looking back to the doctor, he stared the doctor dead in the eyes, mouth drawn into a fine line.  “He may not know it, but he’s still my husband.  And _I_ do remember!”

Shawn hesitated, glancing at Will, who nodded.  With a sigh, the doctor looked back to Alan.  “Very well.  But he must not be pushed into remembering.”

“You think I want him to fall into another coma?”  Alan reached out, and Will put his arm around the smaller reaper’s waist, helping him stand.  “I wish to rest now.”

“Very well,” Shawn said, “Do not forget to take your medicine, Mr. Humphries.”  Then he left the room with a pitying backwards glance.  When he was gone, Alan’s knees buckled and Will half carried him to the bed, where he immediately burst into tears.

“Oh, Will!  He doesn’t remember me!”

Will wasn’t a hugger.  He didn’t console.  But now he put his arms around Alan and allowed the reaper to sob into his shirt until he shook with pain. Will measured out the medicine, then he sat beside Alan until his weeping stopped and he feel into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Will met with Shawn in his office and the doctor poured the reaper a cup of coffee and sat down behind his desk with a sigh.

“It’s awful, just awful,” he said, taking a long drink.  “What with Alan’s condition…  If only Eric could be there for him.”

“Perhaps it is better this way,” Wills aid and Shawn looked up, shocked.

“What? How could you say that?”

Will sat down in a chair opposite, sipping his coffee.  “Eric worried over Alan so it wore both of them down.  Now, he can’t tear Alan apart with his grief.”

“I suppose,” Shawn said, “But still… I have found companionship is the best thing for a patient.”

“I do not mean I like that they are separated by the wall in Eric’s mind.”  Will looked down into his cup. “They are…were, exemplary reapers.  A pair with a bond like I’ve never seen before…”

“Mr. Spears,” Shawn said, and Will looked up.

“Yes?”

“I believe it would be best now for Alan to remain at the hospital,” Shawn said.  “In his condition and with Eric being in the state that he is, I do not think he is well enough to be on his own.  And…” The doctor looked away. “I don’t think it will be much longer now…”

“I agree,” Will said, standing.  “I will make the necessary arrangements.”  He sent down the cup and went to the door.  When he was in the hall, he allowed a small expression of sorrow to cross his face.  _‘I will make sure you are comfortable until the end, Alan… It is the least I can do.”_

 

Eric.  Eric Slingby.

It wasn’t a bad name, and it did feel familiar, like he had known it before.  But he couldn’t remember ‘before’ anymore.

Doctor Shawn had patiently sat through his tirade of questions, and his anger, when he had been told his past couldn’t be revealed.

“I want to know who I am, dammit!” he’d yelled too weak to rise but strong enough to be angry.  “Who am I?”

“We will reveal a little at a time, Mr. Slingby,” Shawn had promised, “but right your mind is too fragile to be tampered with. Please, just be patient.”

“Patient,” Eric muttered now.  “Be patient…”

It was the evening of the day after he had woken up.  He felt strong enough to get up and had walked with sore muscles to the bathroom.  He was almost afraid of what he would see in the mirror, but the dyed blond hair, dark braided cornrows and green eyes hadn’t been surprising. Only new.  Very new.    Rubbing the dark patch of hair on his chin, Eric frowned.  He hadn’t forgotten everything. Not basic things like how to walk and talk and speak.  Only the memories… Only his life.

“Who am I?” he asked the reflection, “What am I?”

The question almost scared him and he bit his lip.  He had nothing, absolutely nothing, and from what the doctor said, it could be a long time before he knew who he was again.  A long time or maybe never.

“The hell do I do….”  Staring at his face, he certainly looked like he had been through hell.  The bruises were fading, but the cuts were still small jagged lines on his skin, stitched up like a garment.

_‘I’m… nobody…’_

There had to be something they could tell him.  Just a whisper of a memory that he could work with.  Backing out of the bathroom, Eric looked down at himself.  He was wearing hospital pants and a white t-shirt, presentable enough anyway.  Going to the door, he opened it and looked out into the hall.  There was no one around and he stepped out, determined to find Doctor Shawn.

Moving down the corridor he saw a sign that read, ‘Long-Term Care Unit’.

So he was in long term care…. Most of the doors on either side were closed and he passed them, looking for an elevator.  No way was he taking the stairs.  He was already almost too sore and achy to walk.

Perhaps it was because he was walking so slowly, or because it was the only room with the door open, or maybe something else, but for some reason, Eric paused.  Looking to his right, he found himself gazing into a room lit was cozy yellow light.  Sitting on the bed inside was a young man with wispy brown hair wearing a lavender cardigan.  He was doing something in a book, drawing or writing, and Eric unconsciously stepped closer.

When he was in the doorway the young man glanced up and his face paled.  A soft, “oh,” escaped his lips and the pencil dropped from his fingers.

“Sorry,” Eric said, “Did I startle you?”

The young man couldn’t seem to make another sound and he looked like he had seen a ghost.  Eric didn’t blame him.  He had just wandered into his room, after all.

“Sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have come in…”  He turned around, but then-

“Wait.”

The soft voice stopped him and he looked back.  The young man had risen, setting the book aside, and Eric noticed how delicate he looked, how thin, thinner than he should be…

“It’s alright,” he said, “Please come back in.  You didn’t startle me; I was just deep in thought.  How rude of me.”

Eric hesitated.  He had been going to find Doctor Shawn… But for some reason he happened to look into the other man’s eyes and the tidal wave of sorrow and loneliness and fear in those green irises dragged him back into the room.

“No problem,” Eric said with a grin.  He held out his hand.  “Eric Slingby.  Sorry that I can’t tell you anymore, but I seem to have lost my memory.”

“A-Alan Humphries.”  Alan took his hand and Eric could feel him shaking.  Trembling with disease, fatigue, medication?  He was in a hospital, after all.  “It’s alright,” Alan said, sinking down to the bed again.  “You have no memories at all?”

Eric sat down as well, shaking his head.  “None.  I suppose I should be more bothered but, I mean, I can’t exactly miss what I can’t remember, right?”

“I s-suppose not,” Alan said and Eric was dismayed to see tears pooling in his eyes.

“Hey, hey,” he said, touching Alan’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alan whispered, wiping his face. “I guess it must be my illness…”  He winced suddenly, touching his chest, and Eric began to rise.

“I’ll get a doctor,” he said, but Alan shook his head.

“No, I’ll be fine.  I’m only supposed to call if it passes a certain pain level.”

Eric sat down again, watching in concern as Alan struggled to compose himself, breath hitching in pain as he rode out whatever fit he was going through.  It appeared pretty painful to Eric and he wondered what kind of pain it must be that required the getting of a doctor.  After a minute Alan didn’t seem to be getting any better and Eric rose again.

“I’m fetching the doctor.”

“Oh really, it’s-.” Alan gritted his teeth. “This is mild…”

Eric looked around, spying the call button near the bed.  Picking up the remote, he pressed it until the light blinked.  Turning back to Alan, he thought if this was mild, what was severe?  He didn’t want to know.

A moment later a nurse was at the door and Eric stood from where he been back at Alan’s side.

“He just suddenly had this attack,” he said and Alan looked up.

“It was mild, Katrina,” he said.  “I’m fine.”

“I’ll check you over anyway, since I’m here,” the nurse said.  She looked to Eric.  “You’re on this level, right?  You should get back to your room.”

“Oh,” Eric said, backing up. “Right…”

“Thank you for your concern,” Alan said and Eric nodded.

“Yeah…”

When he was outside and the door was closed behind him, he suddenly didn’t feel like looking for Doctor Shawn anymore.  Instead, it was as if his entire mind had switched completely to worrying about Alan.

“He’ll be fine,” Eric said to himself. “He said it was mild…”

The pulsing wave of concern that he had just experienced was leaving him tired and weak and he went slowly back to his room, crawling under the covers and burying his face in the soft pillow.  He thought about Alan until he fell asleep.

 

 _‘There it is,’_ Alan thought, staring up at the blank ceiling.  _‘The clear truth.  He really truly doesn’t remember me.’_

He wanted to cry, to eject all the horror and pain and sorrow from his chest, but whatever Katrina had given him dulled his brain so he could only string his thoughts together in one long dismal train.

_‘Can’t tell him anything… can’t let him know he’s my husband… I want him to hold me again… God I miss his chocolate chip pancakes… I want to hear him call me ‘flower’ again… Hey, Eric… can you call me ‘flower’ just one more time…?_

_‘I’ll be gone soon anyway… and he won’t even care._

_‘I… love you…_

_‘…Eric…’_


	4. Author's Question

I currently have no plans to finish this fic. I do, however, have enough written I would be able to post a few more chapters before I run out of content. Is anyone interested in reading what unfinished work I have or should I just leave it as is/delete it off this site?  
Thanks for the feedback~  
~TopHatCat


	5. Chapter 5

Eric had a dream.

In it, he was sitting at an island kitchen, eating an apple.  There was sun shining through the windows, lighting up the vase of flowers on the counter.

“Ericas,” he said, reaching out to touch the purple blossoms.  “These are called Ericas…  How do I know that?”

_“Hey, apple-eater, we’re having dinner in a few minutes!”_

The cheerful tone came from behind and he turned to see someone standing at the stove.  They were smiling at him but he didn’t know who they were.  Frowning, he tried to remember, but the harder he thought, the blurrier their face became.

“Wait,” he said, “Who are you?”

_“Set out the dishes, would you, please?  We’ll need plates and bowls tonight.”_

Eric felt as if he was being sucked into a vortex.  The kitchen was dwindling, becoming farther and farther away, but still he could hear that crystal voice.

_“Did you see the daffodils in the garden when you got home? They’re new! I love flowers so much.”_

Eric reached out, pleading as he struggled to hold on to the dream.  “Wait, I want to know more!  Wait!”

He woke up covered in sweat and breathing heavily, staring up at the white hospital room ceiling.  The second he tried to remember the dream it flew away, slipping between his fingers until all he could recall was the word _erica_.

 _‘Erica,’_ he thought drowsily, rubbing his eyes.  _‘What’s that got to do with anything?’_

His brain certainly didn’t think it was anything important, for soon it dragged him back down into the abyss of sleep, and when he woke the next morning, he had no recollection of the dream whatsoever.

What he did remember was Alan, and the pain the other man had been in.  So as soon as the nurse who checked him in the morning was gone, he got out of bed, fixed his hair in the mirror and left the room.

Upon reaching Alan’s room, he found the door open a crack and the place empty.  _‘Is he okay?  Did he need to go in for emergency care or something?’_

It was too boring up here to sit around anyway, so he decided to find out where Alan was.  He could find Shawn too, and ask if there was any way to spark his memories again.  Heading down the hall, he pressed the down button and got inside when the doors opened.  Going to the ground floor, he stepped out into a busy main entrance hall and realized he had no idea where he was going.

Snagging a passing doctor he asked, “Um, pardon, but do you know where Doctor Shawn is?”

“Oh, you’re Eric,” the woman said. “I think he’s in surgery right now, but I can alert one of his nurses to see you when he’s done.  I can help you for now.  Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Eric answered. “I can see him later.  A second thing though.  Do you know where I could find a patient named Alan Humphries?”

“Oh, Alan,” the nurses face softened and she looked almost sad.  “If he’s not in his room he’s most likely in the garden.  Just follow the signs.”

“Thank you,” Eric said.  He found the first sign easily and traveled through the building to the very back doors.  As he walked, several doctors and nurses nodded and smiled to him, and he smiled back politely.

  _‘Does everyone know who I am?’_ he wondered.  _‘Is my condition that unusual?’_

The doors to the garden were glass, so Eric could see the beauty of the place even before he stepped outside.  He walked out onto a narrow path that wound back into a small world of grass, trees and more kinds of flowers than Eric could count.  Slowly moving into the color, the warm spring air brought the aromas of the blossoms to his nose and he breathed deeply, taking in their scent.  Benches were placed here and there, and a few patients sat on them or in the grass beneath the trees.  Eric went farther into the garden and eventually found himself in a small clearing.  It was shaded but flowers still grew in the dappled light.  Vines covered the brick wall that separated the garden from the city beyond and a bench was under a drooping willow tree.  Sitting on the bench was Alan, twirling the stem of a tiny purple flower between his fingers.

“You’re okay,” were the first words out of Eric’s mouth.  Not ‘hello’, not ‘how are you’, but ‘you’re okay’.

Alan looked up and a small smile appeared on his face. “You’re here…?”

Eric smiled back.  The happiness on Alan’s face made him feel good and he sat beside the other man.  “I wanted to make sure you were okay after last night.”

“I’m good,” Alan said. “How are you?”

“Not bad,” Eric replied, and they fell into silence.

 _‘What should I say?’_ Eric wondered.  He didn’t want to say something stupid.  He was curious about Alan’s illness but didn’t want to bring up anything uncomfortable.  Glancing over, he noticed the flower in Alan’s hands and asked, “What’s that?”

“Hm?”  Alan looked down.  “Oh, it’s a lilac.  There’s a bush not far away.  I can smell it from here.”

Eric lifted his chin and, sure enough, caught the strong scent of lilac.  “Yeah, I can smell it too.  …That’s weird.”

“What?” Alan asked, and Eric rubbed his chin.

“I didn’t know I knew the smell of flowers…  I can pick out other scents too… Roses maybe?  I don’t know for sure.”

“Maybe it’s something from your past?”

Eric heard the hope in the young man’s tone and couldn’t help but feel grateful that someone cared.  Even if it was someone he barely knew.  “Maybe.  I can’t remember ever having any sort of association with flowers though.”

“Oh.”  Alan turned his gaze back to the lilac again.  “I love flowers…”

“Of course you do,” Eric said without thinking, and Alan looked at him, surprised. “I mean, you seem like you would. You can pick out the lilac scent.”  He shifted in the bench, his mind an odd jumble he couldn’t figure out.  “Do you know any of these other types?”

“All of them,” Alan said proudly.  “They’ve all been grown in my garden.”

“I wish I could see your garden,” Eric said and Alan swallowed, making Eric wonder if he’d said something wrong or if the man was just embarrassed by the kindness.

“Oh, well, I would love for you to see it… Right now though, in this moment, we have these flowers…” He held out his hand, the lilac resting in his palm.  “Purple lilacs… in the language of flowers, they mean ‘the beginnings of love’.”

“The language of flowers, huh,” Eric said. “That’s a thing?”

“Yes,” Alan said glancing up at him.  “I can show you more, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much,” Eric said, and their eyes met for a brief moment.  “Tell me everything.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was late evening when Will was free enough to visit Alan.  When he arrived, the reaper was sitting in a chair drawing.

“You had better not let him see that,” the management reaper said, and Alan’s pencil stopped moving.  He looked down at the intricate drawing of Eric on the paper, laughing in the wind, a border of ericas surrounding his smiling face.  Observing the book, Will saw the page was misshapen, warped from the wetness of many tears.

“I’m careful, Will,” Alan said, closing the book.  “I’m not pushing him to remember.”

“I know you aren’t,” Will answered, sitting down across from Alan.  Pretending to adjust his cufflinks, he observed the small reaper.  Alan was still thin, and pale as paper.  His lavender cardigan hung loose and baggy around his slight frame and his cheekbones were too prominent in his face.  Will struggled to keep his emotions in check as he watched Alan set down the pencil with shaking fingers.

“I almost thought he would remember today,” Alan said, putting his drawing book on the bedside table.  “He said he felt like he knew about flowers.  He could pick out the different scents and as I showed him the blossoms in the garden, he could name them almost as fast as I could.”

“That is the way to do it,” Will said.  “Little things may help him piece together his past, but it will take a long time.”

“Longer than I have,” Alan said, and faced Will. “Is that what you are saying?  When I am gone he still won’t know how much I love him?”

“He may never know,” Will replied, and then hated his cold, factual mouth with all heart when he saw Alan tremble at his words.  The reaper clutched at his sweater, for lack of anything, or anyone, else to hold onto.

“I want to be alone now,” he whispered and Will stood.

“Very well,” he said.  “I will come see you in two days’ time, then.”

“Goodbye, Will,” Alan replied, not looking at him, and the other reaper left the room.  Once in the hall he moved toward Eric’s room.  He hadn’t been looking forward to this, but Shawn had said ever since he mentioned the reaper’s name when Eric had first woken, the tall reaper had been asking who Mr. Spears was.

“What will you tell him?” Shawn had asked, when Will announced he would speak to Eric.

“The minimum,” the management reaper had replied.

So now he cleared his face of emotion, straightened his tie and knocked on the door of Eric’s room with three sharp taps.

“Come in,” came the response, and Will entered to find Eric sitting on the bed watching TV.  He switched it off when the other reaper entered, looking confused.

“Hello,” he said.

“Good evening, Mr. Slingby,” Will said, “My name is William T. Spears.”

“Mr. Spears.”  Eric swung his legs off the bed and held out his hand. “You’re the fellow Doctor Shawn mentioned. A pleasure.”

As Will took the offered hand, he couldn’t help but think of how familiar the feeling was.  “Yes.  I was told you are not supposed to have any sort of memory boosts yet…”

“No,” Eric agreed with a glower, “But I couldn’t just let your name sit around in my empty head.  So, if you could please tell me, who are you and how do we know each other?”

“We’re work acquaintances,” Will answered, using the carefully selected words he had memorized that morning.  “I am technically your boss, but I would say we have a good relationship.”

“Work, huh,” Eric said, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.  “And you’re my boss?”

“Yes,” Will answered. _‘But I am also your friend, Eric… Try to remember.’_

“What kind of work?” Eric asked and Will went back to his monologue.

“It’s a collection agency,” he said and Eric raised an eyebrow.

“A collection agency? You mean like, taxes and stuff?”

“Very much like taxes, yes,” Will agreed, and Eric snorted.

“Wow.  Tax collector, huh?  Can’t really see myself doing that. Then again, I can’t really see myself at all at the moment…”

“I am sure your memories will return,” Will said, and he wondered if he was saying the words for his benefit or Eric’s.  “In time…”

“Yeah,” Eric said, clasping his hands and looking down at them. “It just bugs me that I don’t know if I had any family or anybody… You’re the only person I know now that I knew before…”

Will’s façade almost cracked at that.  He closed his eyes for a short moment, then opened them and said in a voice that was more friend than boss.  “You weren’t alone, but you shouldn’t worry about family too much.”

“I guess I was a loner then.  Ha!” Eric chuckled.  “That makes me feel a little better.  Thanks, Mr. Spears.”

“Please, call me Will.  And now I must be going.”

“Glad you stopped,” Eric said, rising to shake Will’s hand again. “If you can think of anything else that won’t shatter my mind, I’d be much obliged.” 

“Of course,” Will said, his eyes taking in the reaper as they said farewells.  He was the same man, still charming, still polite… with that nonchalant mood that made Alan laugh…  Will nodded and quickly exited the room before he could reveal anything in his face.

In the hall he let out a long shuddering sigh.  _‘I just lied to Eric…  Out of all of us reapers, he has the best family.  Loner…ha…’_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot I hadn't posted the rest of this. I'm not continuing to write it, this was just sitting, pre-written.   
> Well, enjoy the next 4 chapters! Sorry it doesn't have an ending.

It was almost a month before Eric got any more clues about his past.  During that time, he became closer with Alan, spending time with him in the garden for the most part, reading or talking.  Sometimes they tended the flowers together.  After a short while Alan’s hands would begin to shake and he wouldn’t be able to work anymore.  He always insisted Eric continue though, and the man could feel his eyes, watching him as he worked.  It didn’t bother him.  He got a sense of extreme loneliness from Alan, though the young man hardly ever spoke of himself.  He said he adored flowers, had two cats with funny names, and loved spending time with Eric.

Eric loved spending time with Alan.

Even though he felt like most of his mind was a gaping black hole, whenever Alan was around, for some reason none of that mattered. It was as if the man filled in every empty spot in his brain, making him complete again.

“Do you have any family?” he asked one day, and Alan had looked away, fiddling with the buttons of his cardigan.

“I… I have a husband...”

“And he doesn’t visit you here?” Eric had questioned with a frown.

“He’s been gone for a while,” Alan answered softly.  “I don’t know if he’s ever coming back.”

“Sounds like a jerk to me,” Eric muttered. “I won’t ever leave you like that, if you don’t want me to.”

“I would like you to stay, please,” Alan had answered, and a minute later had had another of his attacks.  Eric noticed he had these spells if he moved too much, or was emotionally compromised, and got rather good at guessing when Alan should calm down.

“When are you going to get out of this place?” he asked one day in the cafeteria and Alan had shrugged.

“I don’t know… Sometime or another.”

“When you do, come back and visit me,” Eric said and Alan had nodded over his cup of tea, looking down into the steam.

“I just want all the pain to go away,” he whispered, and Eric became quiet.  Alan had never spoken speak of his illness before.

“Every time I get an attack it’s like there are a million thorns digging into my heart.”  Alan touched his chest, and Eric winced.  “All the time… Even now it hurts.  There’s always something hurting.”

“It’s okay,” Eric said gently, placing his hand over Alan’s small one, and the young man looked up.  Eric smiled.  “I’ll bring you some garlic, alright?”

Tears welled up in Alan’s eyes and he put his other hand over Eric’s gripping it tight.  “Garlic means get well… It wards off illness…”

“Yeah,” Eric said, grasping Alan’s hands.  “Yeah it does.”

Alan’s shoulders began to shake and Eric knew right away what was coming.  He didn’t even think about it, scooping Alan up in his arms felt natural.  He figured an attack here in the cafeteria was more embarrassing than being carried bridal-style.  By the time they made it to the room, Eric could tell this wasn’t just a mild fit.  Lying Alan on the bed, he reached for the call button but Alan held out his hand.

“No, I don’t want-.”

“Alan, this is bad,” Eric said, but the other man shook his head.

“Please… I just want you here.”

Eric’s hand hovered over the remote, but the pleading look in Alan’s eyes stopped him.  “Fine,” he said, sitting on the mattress, “But if it gets too bad…”

“Thank you,” Alan said, and Eric could see him fighting to keep his body under control.  His thin fingers gripped the blankets and he gritted his teeth, eyes wide with pain.  Eric’s heart trembled to see him like this and he wanted to reach out, hold him tight in his arms.  Instead he took Alan’s hand, rubbing the soft skin with his thumb, over and over in little circles until the man stopped shaking and his breathing returned to normal.

Over the month, Eric had gotten used to the routine and when he was sure Alan had calmed down enough, he took the small jar of medicine from the drawer and tipped a little into the cap.

Alan struggled to sit up and Eric helped him, trying not to wince at the way the young man tried to keep his gasps of pain in as he moved.  His hands were too unsteady to hold the cap so Eric gently pressed the tiny cup to Alan’s lips and he downed the medication.

“Thank you,” Alan said, his voice barely above a whisper as Eric put away the bottle.

“No problem,” the man answered, returning to the bed.  Already the drug was taking effect, making Alan’s eyelids heavy, his long lashes fluttering down his to cheeks. 

“Time for bed?” Eric asked but Alan didn’t respond, too exhausted to speak.  He tipped a little and his head rested against Eric’s arm.  The tall man closed his eyes at the touch.

_‘God… you’re so frail...  You’re nothing but skin and bones.’_

Easing Alan back onto the pillow Eric wrapped the blankets around him.  When he finished he said gently, “I’m going to go see Doctor Shawn.”

“Did you know…?” Alan whispered, his eyes still closed, “That ericas mean loneliness…?”

“What?” Eric frowned, unsure if he had heard the words correctly.  “Alan?”

But the man was already asleep, as peaceful as he could be, and Eric drew back, a deep troubled feeling in his stomach.

 _‘Ericas mean loneliness?  Why did he say that just now?’_ Shaking his head, Eric went to the door and into the hall.  _‘I’d better tell Doctor Shawn about this attack.  He’ll want to know.’_

He found the doctor in his office, working on papers.  “Hello, Eric,” Shawn said when the man entered.  “How can I help you?”

“Alan had an attack, not so mild but he’s okay now,” Eric said.  “Just thought you should know.”

“Thank you,” Shawn said.  He pressed a button on a machine and spoke into it. “Would a nurse for Long-Term Care please go do a post-seizure check on Mr. Humphries?”

 There was an affirmative reply and Shawn leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, Mr. Slingby, for alerting us.  Alan doesn’t report these attacks, so it’s nice to have you around to help him.”

“Why doesn’t he report them?” Eric asked, a little upset, “Doesn’t he want to get better?”

“Of course he does,” Shawn said. “But sometimes things don’t work out the way we would like them too.”

“What do you mean?” Eric asked and the troubled feeling grew.  “Why would you say that?”

Shawn pressed his lips together and Eric leaned on the desk. “Doctor.  What is Alan’s illness?”

Shawn sighed and took of his glasses to rub his eyes.  “I don’t tell this sort of thing to people outside the family…”  He put his glasses back on and looked at Eric.  “Alan has a very rare disease.  In fact, he is one of less than ten known cases in history.  It affects the heart with no possible means of transplant or surgery.”

“Rare…?” Eric could hardly breathe.  “But…”

“I’m so sorry,” Shawn said, “But Alan’s illness is terminal.”

Eric staggered back a step, sinking into a chair.  Terminal…?

_‘But he can’t be terminal.  He’s got to get better… he’s got a garden.  He was going to show me all the kinds of flowers he’d planted.  He was going to try and plant those new flowers he was dreaming about.  Why would he say those things if he knew…?’_

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” Eric whispered, holding his head in his hands.

“Maybe…” Shawn said, and he felt the doctor’s hand on his shoulder. “Maybe he didn’t want you to worry.”

Eric looked up, tears falling freely down his face.  “How long does he have?”

“Two months,” Shawn replied. “Maybe three.  He’s been in a steep decline for the past half a year.”

_‘Two months… I’ve known him one and yet I feel like we were meant to meet.  How can he leave me after such a short time?  He’s so much more to me than one month…’_

“He’s the only thing I’ve got,” Eric said, and a sharp flash of pain sliced through his skull.  “I don’t want him to leave me.”

“Eric, you need to rest,” Shawn said, and the man shook his head.

“How can I?  Ericas… Ericas mean loneliness…”

He felt the needle slide into his arm, felt the drug slowly take control of him, and all he could think of was the ericas… the lonely ericas dancing in the wind…

 _“These are erica flowers,”_ said the crystal voice and Eric turned but couldn’t see anyone in the field of purple.

“They are called erica, these flowers?” he asked, looking at the tiny bell shaped clusters.

_“Yes.  In the language of the flowers they mean loneliness.”_

“Loneliness…” A dark gray was seeping across the field now, drowning the purple, and the voice was soft and sad.

_“All people are alone… From their birth to their last moment…”_

There was a soft sound, like a sigh and he turned and someone was there but he didn’t know who it was.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll never leave you alone.”


	8. Chapter 8

When he opened his eyes to the hospital room, he latched onto the dream like it was a lifesaver in an endless ocean.

 _‘Ericas.  Why ericas?  What was that dream?’_ He sat up, and looking at the clock found it to be the middle of the night.  _‘Maybe it’s not just a dream.  Maybe it’s a memory!’_

He was too excited now to fall back asleep.  Pushing back the covers he got out of bed, pulling on his robe and heading for the door.  He knew Doctor Shawn probably wouldn’t be here at this time of night, but if he could use a phone to call Mr. Spears…  He knew it was selfish to wake the man up this time of night but he didn’t care.  He had found a bit of himself and he needed to know more.

Walking quickly down the hall, he was surprised to see Alan’s room light was on.  What was he doing up this late?  He needed rest.  Then Eric remembered.  Alan wasn’t going to get better…

“Damn,” he muttered, as he approached the door.  “What am I going to say to you?”

He soon found he didn’t have to say anything, as the room was empty and quiet.  Glancing around, Eric wondered where Alan was for a moment before his eyes picked up subtle hints.  The blankets pushed back so they almost fell to the floor, the medication drawer open, the bottle on the stand…

Eric heartbeat quickened and he backed out of the room.  _‘If he’s had an attack… He could be dead right now!’_

His mind wasn’t working properly, but somehow he came to the conclusion Alan would most likely be in Emergency Care, and he ran for the elevator, slamming his fist on the buttons to take him to the correct ward.

In the lift, he tried to calm his breathing and found he couldn’t.  He felt as if his whole world was crumbling around him and he didn’t know why.

 _‘I’ve known this guy for a month,’_ He thought, _‘A month!  But in all honesty, he’s my whole world… The tiny little world I have.’_

The panic in his chest had built up to a terrifying degree when he stepped out of the lift and found the Emergency level bustling with action.  He passed several patients that weren’t Alan and dashed down the hall, looking through the windows of the rooms as he passed.

“Hey, mister!” he heard behind him. “You can’t be here!”

Eric ignored the order and kept going.  There was a lack of windows on a lot of the rooms and he just afraid he’d passed the right one, when a cry came from behind a door a little ahead.  He recognized the tone at once and ran to the door, pushing it open and entering the room.

Spears, Shawn and a nurse all turned when he entered, but Eric only had eyes for Alan.  The young man was lying on the bed, his muscles spasming with tremors worse than Eric had ever seen.  Eric tried to rush to his side but the doctor who had called to him before and two others grabbed him from behind.

“No, let me see him!” Eric cried, and looked to Shawn. “Please!”

“Get some sedation, Bob,” one of the doctors said, but Shawn stepped forward.

“No, that’s not necessary,” the doctor said, “But only a limited number of people can be in this room right now.”

“Let me stay,” Eric begged as the others released him, and Will moved toward the door.

“I will go,” the man said and touched Eric briefly on the arm before leaving with the other doctors.  The second they were gone, Eric dashed to the bedside.

“Eric,” Alan gasped, and the other man nodded, forcing a smile onto his face.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“It hurts,” Alan whimpered.  “It hurts so much.”

Tears were running freely down the man’s face and Eric brushed them away with his thumb.  “You can do this,” he said, trying not to let his expression show the dread he was feeling as Alan gasped and sobbed, shaking under his touch.  Looking over at Shawn he asked, “Can’t you give him something?  He’s in pain!”

“We can’t risk giving him anything during these occurrences,” Shawn said apologetically.  “We don’t know the illness enough to be certain whatever we gave him wouldn’t create even more complications.  He has to get through it by himself.”

“Not all by himself,” Eric said, squeezing Alan’s hand.

“D-don’t-.” Alan choked, hardly able to say the words.  “Don’t leave me!”

“Shh,” Eric whispered, his heart aching, “I’m not going to leave.  I promise.  Okay?”

Alan nodded, then his head tipped back as an extremely severe jolt of pain went through him and he cried out, gripping Eric’s hand so hard both their fingers turned white.  Eric gritted his teeth, and when the moment passed and Alan’s eyes remained closed he asked anxiously, “Alan?  Alan, can you hear me?”

“He’s not getting enough air to his heart,” the nurse declared and Shawn stepped forward, a mask in his hand.

“Hold him still, Eric,” the doctor said, and Eric complied, holding Alan gently but firmly as Shawn placed the breathing mask over the young man’s mouth and nose, adjusting the strap so it would stay on.

“Is this going to work?” Eric asked, “Is he going to die right now?”

“I don’t think it’s time yet,” Shawn said, adjusting the breathing gear.  “But a few more attacks with this severity of this one and eventually his body won’t be able to hold out any longer.”

Eric looked down at Alan’s face.  The tremors going through him were lessening now and his breathing was mostly steady.  Brushing the young man’s hair back from his face, he furrowed his brow, wondering when the day would come that he would be looking at a face that wasn’t just sleeping.

“He’s going to have to stay here for a while until we’re sure he’s well enough to return to his room,” Shawn said and Eric looked up.

“I’m not leaving until he’s okay,” he said.  “Find me a chair.”

 

It was several hours later when Alan woke up.  He was immediately taken to his room and given medication, which sent him right back under.  Eric stayed with him until he was sleeping and then went to his own room to watch TV.

Every show was dull and drab though and soon he fell asleep to the murmur of noise.

_“Hurry up, Eric! We’re going to be late!”_

“It’s a five minute walk!” he laughed. “Haven’t you heard of being fashionably late?”

 _“Have you heard of being on time?”_ the joking reply came. _“It’s polite to arrive on time.”_

“But we don’t want to be early. I hate it when people come early. It’s like-.  Hey, are you okay?”

_“I… I’m fine.  Just got a weird pain in my chest.”_

“Does it hurt now?”

_“No.  It’s probably from walking. Don’t worry. Anyway, what were you saying?”_

“Oh, just that I hate it when people are early.  It’s like, no, wait! I’m not ready yet! I don’t have my pants on!”

_“Oh gosh! That actually happened! You know, that was a wonderful party…”_

The words faded as Eric opened his eyes.  “What was that?” he asked the empty room.  “And why is it always the same voice?  Why can’t I see your face?” 

A noise sounded in the room and at first Eric thought it was the TV, which was still playing away, but then it came again, a soft knock.

“Come in,” he said, and was surprised when Alan entered, wheeling an IV pole.  “Hi.  Should you be up and about?”

“I wanted to see you,” Alan said.  He looked exhausted, but far better than he had before.  “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Have a seat,” Eric said, patting the bed, and Alan came over, settling on the mattress.  “Nice accessory you’ve got there,” he mentioned and Alan looked at the IV pole.

“Oh… They said I have to keep this with me from now on when I leave my room…”

Eric frowned, looking at the TV, which showed two lovers kissing in a park.  He glared at the image.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Alan glanced at him.  “What do you mean?”

“You said you were going home someday,” Eric replied, not looking at the man.  “You told me you were going to show me your garden.”

Ala was quiet for a long time.  Then he said, “How did you find out?”

“Doctor Shawn,” Eric replied.  “He said it was policy to only tell family members, but for some reason he told me.”  Now he did turn to Alan. “I thought you were going to get better.  I _dreamed_ about you getting better!”

“I’m sorry,” Alan whispered.  “I… I didn’t want you to worry anymore…  It seems like it’s been such a long time since you were truly happy and I didn’t want that to go away.”

“I was happy,” Eric said, “Happy I had someone in here that made my memory loss more tolerable.  And then I find out…”  He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Dammit, Al, I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

When he spoke the words, a jolt went through Alan more painful than anything his disease had given him.

_‘You called me Al…  You sound just like when you would worry about me at home… I didn’t want you to be so sad again.’_

They sat, the flickering TV creating jumping shadows around the room, and didn’t speak again.  There was nothing to say.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day Will came to visit them both and the three sat in the hospital café, talking.

“How do you know him?” Eric asked and Alan glanced at the other reaper.

“Oh... work.”

“Wait, you worked where I worked?” Eric frowned. “So I did know you?”

“It was a large office,” Will answered, cleanly avoiding the question.  “So, Eric, have you remembered anything else?”

Eric shook his head.  “Nothing. Though I keep having these dreams.”

“Dreams?” Alan asked. “About what?”

“They’re just about everyday life,” Eric shrugged. “There’s always this same person but I can’t see their face.”

“Perhaps someone you knew,” Will suggested and Eric sighed.

“I wish I could remember…!”

“Time will reveal more,” Will said and Alan looked away.  Time… the one thing he had very little of.  Eric seemed to sense his feelings, for the man rested a hand over his.

“Say, have you found out about what happened to me?” Eric asked Will. “Doctor Shawn says that no one knows.”

“Unfortunately that is still the case,” Will answered, adjusting his glasses. “The only information is that you were found in your injured state in a forest near a marsh.  That is all.”

“Damn,” Eric said. “I wish I knew… Maybe if I went there it would jog my memory?”

“Both I and Doctor Shawn think it best not for you to leave the hospital quite yet,” Will countered.  “Things may change in the future, but for now…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eric muttered. “I have to be patient.”

A few minutes later, when Eric was in the bathroom, Alan faced Will suspiciously.  “Will… Do you know what happened?”

“I honestly do not,” Will sighed.  “It is a mystery.”  The management reaper seemed very put-off by this fact and his frown deepened.

“Surely you know what his mission was?”

Will shook his head. “I don’t know even that.  It was assigned by the higher-ups.  I had nothing to do with it.”

“Then why aren’t they telling us what’s going on?” Alan asked, agitated.

Will chuckled, a shocking sound, but it was a deeply sarcastic laugh. “They do not care for the mind of one reaper,” he said dryly.  “Why should they get involved?”

“I care,” Alan said fiercely. “Please, Will, if you find anything, tell me at once!”

“Certainly,” the reaper answered.  Glancing toward the bathroom he said, “He’s having dreams about you.  You haven’t been pushing him to remember, have you?”

“No,” Alan said.  “And I… I’m not going to try to drop hints anymore either.”

“Why ever not?” Will asked. “If he’s having dreams, he may be getting his memory back.”

“Because I don’t want him to be the Eric who left me two months ago,” Alan said.  “I don’t want him to lose sleep because he’s worried about me, live on tea and whiskey because he’s so concerned he can’t eat.”  Looking down at his teacup, Alan struggled to keep his voice steady. “He’ll be a happier man if he doesn’t know who I am when I die.”

“Are you sure you aren’t trying to spare yourself from sadness?” Will asked, and Alan looked up.

“I-.”

But then he saw Eric coming back to the table and swallowed his words.  Maybe he _was_ protecting himself.  But wasn’t this selfishness a way of being kind to Eric as well…?

 

That night he drew.  As he sketched the lines on the paper he wondered what would happen to all of his drawings when he died.  He’d always assumed Eric would keep them in some box somewhere in the flat, maybe take one or two out once in a while and look at them with the cats purring in his lap.

That wouldn’t happen now, so perhaps Will would take them.  They’d just waste space in some storage area or something.   But it was the only thing he could do to relax and so he kept drawing, creating flower after flower on the paper, broken up by doodles of cats and quick sketches of his friends.

Finally his hand grew too sore and shaky, so he set down the pencil.  Turning the page he went back to the work he had finished a short time ago, the drawing of Eric surrounded by flowers.  At the bottom he had written in graceful script, _‘My husband Eric’_.  With a long sigh he set the book on the bedside drawer and tilted his head back, closing his eyes.

He was just drifting off when a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” he said and Eric entered.

“Can I stay for a bit?” the reaper asked and Alan nodded.  Eric sat down on the bed and clasped his hands.  “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Alan answered, looking down and fiddling with the buttons on his cardigan.  “You?”

“Same as ever,” Eric replied and the corners of Alan’s mouth twitched, threatening to turn into a frown.  He stood and Eric rose too.

“You okay?”

“Just need some water,” Alan replied, going into the bathroom.  He filled the cup and drank the entire thing in one go.  Wiping his mouth on his sleeve he glanced at himself in the mirror and then looked away.  He hated how he looked, so tired and frail.

“There’s still some of that soda in the fridge,” he said, exiting the bathroom.  “I don’t think you’ve drunken the last one.”

“What is this?”

Eric tone was thick with emotion and Alan’s heart skipped a beat when he realized what Eric was holding, and what he had written on the bottom of the paper.

“I drew you,” he said. “I-it’s just a picture.”

Eric lifted his eyes from the book. “Just a picture?” he repeated, the words heavy.

“You weren’t supposed to see it!” Alan said.  “Don’t look!”

“I’ve already seen it!” Eric gasped. “What the hell, Alan!”

“We’re not supposed to try and get you to remember!” Alan cried, trying to grab the book, but Eric held it out his reach. “You might fall into a coma again!”

“Well, I haven’t fallen into one yet, so talk to me, dammit!” Eric shouted and Alan burst into tears, sinking down into the chair and covering his face. 

“Alan…”

Eric’s voice was so sad, filled with such confusion and dread that Alan felt like his heart was being torn into a thousand pieces.

“I…” Eric choked out the words.  “I’m your husband?”

The spoken truth made Alan weep harder and he looked up at Eric, who was standing, hopeless in the glow of the lamp.  “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, you’re my husband.  And you can’t remember me, can you? Not even now.”

Eric stared at the drawing, at the words and shook his head. “I…  I have no memory of you…”

Alan covered his mouth and Eric faced him.  “Why?  Why wouldn’t you tell me?  All this time in the hospital and you knew…”

“I couldn’t!” Alan sobbed, “They were afraid you would fall into a coma again and I couldn’t stand the thought of you dying like that!”

Eric sank down to his knees, dropping the book to the floor. “But how could take every day looking at my face and knowing that I didn’t know who you were?  What you are to me?”

“I’m dying anyway!” Alan said, shaking with a fit that forced itself upon him.  “It doesn’t matter what I feel!  If you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

“Shut up,” Eric said, tears now streaming down his cheeks. “Don’t you dare say that it doesn’t matter.  Of course you matter!  Maybe I don’t know you as my husband but I care more about you than anyone else, even without my memories!”

“I just want the pain to stop,” Alan whimpered and Eric moved forward, gripping the young man’s arms gently.  “I wanted to die before you could remember who I was… Then there wouldn’t be all this sadness…”

Eric touched Alan’s cheek, wet with tears.  He couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel the love he should have for Alan, the affection the other man obviously held in his heart for him.  He wanted to love Alan so badly it hurt but he couldn’t remember what it was like to care so much.   “That’s not fair to you,” he whispered.  “When you go, I don’t want to be left as some patient you met at a hospital.  In your last moments I want you to see your husband.”

Leaning forward so suddenly Alan didn’t have time to gasp, Eric pressed his lips against his partner’s, putting as much feeling and passion as he could into the action.  When he finally pulled back, Alan seemed dazed with shock and Eric brushed the hair away from the young man’s eyes.

“Heh,” he said almost thoughtlessly, “your lips are salty from tears… Like that time when we stayed at that hotel.  Except then you were laughing so hard you cried at that stupid joke I made… Can’t believe I made you laugh so much with that one, it was so lame…”

“It was so bad it was funny,” Alan said, then gasped and clutched at Eric’s arm. “Eric!”

“What?” Eric answered, terrified Alan was in even more pain, but the reaper had a look of delight on his face.

“You just remembered something!”

“I did?  I did!”  Eric moved back, sitting on the floor.  “That night… All I can remember is that stupid joke.  What were we doing at a hotel?”

“Should we talk about it?” Alan said cautiously. “What if-?”

“I don’t care about the danger,” Eric said. “I want to know you.  Tell me everything, Alan.”


	10. Chapter 10

Eric lay on his back staring upwards into the dark.  Glancing to his left, he couldn’t see Alan, but he felt the man’s body close to his, Alan’s head resting on his arm.

“How do we sleep?” he’d asked little less than an hour ago.

“You’re on the right and I’m on the left,” Alan had said, and Eric couldn’t deny it wasn’t odd at all to be resting beside the other man.  It felt natural.

But everything was still gone.

Alan had spent hours just talking about their past.  About how Eric had mentored him, then they became close friends with each other and others in their workspace.  Alan had seemed very hesitant to share what their job was but after Eric’s insistence that it was alright, he finally revealed that they were in fact, grim reapers.

Eric thought perhaps he should have been doubtful, but everything Alan said had come as no surprise at all.  It was as if it was all a big story he’d heard before, just not _his_ story.

Moving in together, adopting their two cats, planting in the garden, falling in love… It was his past, a life that sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world.

 _‘I want to remember,’_ he thought, pressing his hand to his head.  _‘I want to know who I am!  I want to love Alan…’_ Searching for his husband’s hand he found it and twined his fingers with Alan’s.  _‘I want to be his Eric again before it’s too late…’_

 

 The next morning when Doctor Shawn knocked on Alan’s door, it was Eric who got up and opened it.  Shawn seemed surprised to see the tall reaper in the doorway and said so.

“What are you doing here so early, Eric?” he asked, entering the room as Alan sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I’ve been here all night,” Eric replied as Shawn set down the supplies he would use for checking Alan’s health.  “Laid with Alan.”

“Really?” Shawn glanced at Alan, who looked down.  Eric crossed his arms.

“It’s only logical that husbands should sleep in the same bed,” he said and Shawn‘s eyes widened.

“You told him?” he said tersely to Alan, who motioned to the drawing book, still lying open on the dresser.

“He found out.  And… and then I told him everything.”

“And you remember?” Shawn questioned Eric eagerly, his face falling when the tall reaper shook his head.

“No.  But know I want to more than ever.  I would like to trace my steps back, starting at where I was found injured.”

“I am afraid that is not a good idea,” Shawn said, holding out his hand.  Alan allowed the doctor to take his wrist, checking the weak pulse.  “It could result in-.”

“-in me falling back into a coma, I know,” Eric said, irritated. “But Alan’s already told me so much and I’m still alright!”

“Yes, and I’m concerned about what the level of information may do to you,” Shawn said, taking a small blood sample from Alan’s arm and sticking a bandage over the place the needle had punctured.  Turning to Eric he frowned.  “I think I will do an MRI scan on you later today.  I want to make sure your mind is still functioning correctly.”

“Obviously it’s not or I would know everything!” Eric said, almost shouting as Shawn went to the door.  “Just let me try to remember before it’s too late!”

“I won’t have two casualties,” the doctor said in a low tone as he grasped the doorknob.  “Stay here, Eric.  We’ll do all we can.”

Eric clenched his fists as the doctor left, then took a deep breath to compose himself before turning back to Alan.  He didn’t even open his mouth before the other spoke.

“I know that look,” the reaper said, “You’re going to do something you’re not supposed to.”

“If Shawn won’t let me leave, I’ll just have to get out of here myself,” Eric said.  “I don’t know if it will help, but retracing my steps is the only thing I can think of that will help me restore my memories.”

“Or it could hurt you,” Alan said, and Eric kneeled beside the bed, taking Alan’s hand as he thought a husband might.

“It’s worth the risk,” he said, “If I can remember you.”

Alan nodded, squeezing Eric’s fingers, then pushed back the covers.  “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” Eric rose as Alan began rifling through a drawer, pulling out a pair of gray trousers and his cardigan.  “No, you shouldn’t, not when you’re like this.”

“What if I die while you’re gone?” Alan said, his voice firm as he switched his hospital pajamas for his regular clothes.  “I’m coming with you, Eric, so please don’t argue.”

Eric couldn’t help but let a small smile steal over his face.  Was this the Alan he didn’t know?  The passionate, sweet, feisty one that he had been before he was attacked by death?  He liked the determination in the reaper’s eyes and nodded in consent.

“Alright.  I have a feeling we won’t be able to get out the front door.”

“I have an idea,” Alan said, moving toward the door.  “Follow me.”

They took the lift down and Alan brought them to the garden.  Eric felt conspicuous, like everyone they passed knew their plan to get out of here.

 _‘It’s like we’re trying to escape a prison or something,’_ he thought, smiling to a nurse as they passed.  _‘But we’re only heading to the garden, like usual.’_

“Hey, Alan,” he said, a thought suddenly coming to him, “When I first came here, a lot of the doctors seemed familiar with me.  Is that because…?”

“Because we’ve visited this place far too many times before?” Alan nodded. “You’ve brought me here a lot over the time I’ve had this illness…”

“I wish I could remember,” Eric said solemnly as Alan led the way to their usual spot, the bench under the willow tree.

“You might just yet,” Alan said, and motioned to the wall.  “Here.”

Eric looked up.  The wall that separated the garden from the rest of the city was tall, nine or ten feet, but it was covered in sturdy vines.  Eric tugged on the green tendrils and looked to Alan. “You think you can climb this?”

“I think I can try,” Alan replied, and Eric couldn’t help but smile at the determination.

“I think you’re too short,” he said teasingly.  “Let me help you.”

First glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming, he crouched, lacing his fingers together to make a step for Alan.  The other reaper weighed hardly anything at all and Eric lifted him easily.

“Can you pull yourself up?” he asked and Alan didn’t reply, determinedly grasping the top of the wall.  “Hey, be careful,” Eric said, but Alan had already heaved himself up.  Sitting on the wall he looked down at Eric, cheeks flushed from the effort, and smiled.

“Come on,” he said, and Eric gripped the vines, pulling himself up.  Once at the top, he looked down and saw a mostly empty city street on the other side.  A sidewalk was below and holding tight to the edge of the wall, he lowered himself down then dropped the rest of the way, bending his knees to lessen the impact.  Straightening, he looked up at Alan, legs dangling over the edge.

“I’ll catch you,” he said, “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not,” Alan said, and let himself go.

Eric caught him easily, and smiled at the other reaper. “This is exciting.”

“Isn’t it?” Alan agreed, and Eric’s heart leapt at the sparkle in his eye.

_‘Damn… You’re so cute and free now that the secret of us isn’t sitting on your shoulders.  I think I might even… Ah no, it’s just because I know we’re supposed to be in love.  My true feelings haven’t really come back yet.  Right?’_

“We should find out where I was discovered,” Eric said, setting Alan down.  “Will said it was a marsh, but who knows how many marshes are around.”

“That means we’ll have to get into Will’s office.” Alan sighed. “It won’t be easy…”

“Because he’s the boss?” Eric asked and they started down the street.

“Because he’s Will,” Alan answered. “Also… Everyone is going to recognize you and want to talk.”

“And I won’t know any of them,” Eric said glumly.

“We’ll just have to be quick,” Alan said determinedly. “No stopping for anyone! Oh-!”

“What?” Eric asked, and then followed Alan’s eyes to his attire. “Oh… This hospital getup…”

“We’d better stop at our place,” Alan said, turning a corner, “And get you some regular clothes.”

“Maybe seeing the house will spark some memories,” Eric said, and he saw Alan’s shoulders tense.

“Yes…”

Eric put his arm around the other reaper’s shoulders, squeezing his arm.  “Lead the way.”

When they reached the house and Alan pushed open the metal front gate, Eric paused for a moment in the entrance, taking it in.

The yard was small and filled with flowers of all sorts, exactly as Alan had said it was.  The two story house was white and a tree stretched its branches up to a balcony on the second level.

“The garden is beautiful…” Eric said, and Alan turned back on the walk.

“You helped me plant a lot of these,” he said and Eric crouched to touch the petals of one of the flowers.

“Daffodils.  They’re so happy looking.”

“That’s what you said when you planted them…” Alan said so quietly Eric almost didn’t catch the words.  The tall reaper stood, leaving the flower behind.

“Come on, let’s get me some clothes.”

He opened the front door and headed up the steps to the second floor landing.  At the top he paused, realizing something.

“Oh… I don’t have a key.”

“You remembered we live on the second floor,” Alan said, gasping for breath as he came up the last step.  “I have a key.”

“You going to be okay?” Eric asked as Alan unlocked the door.  He hadn’t thought about how tough stairs might be for the other reaper, but Alan smiled at him.

“I’m fine,” he said, opening the door and leading Eric inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is it. This is all I had written for this story. If I do ever end up finishing it, I'll be sure to post it here. Thanks you guys and I hope you enjoy my other finished stories and my longer ongoing tale 'Unmei', about Alan and Eric's life before the Thorns of Death.


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